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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26790082">(finders keepers, losers weepers)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncognitoDuck11/pseuds/IncognitoDuck11'>IncognitoDuck11</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pretty Little Liars</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alex in the Dollhouse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Psychological Torture, Spencer's Not Having a Good Time, Threats of Violence, Violence, dead naming, kinda whumpy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:20:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,871</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26790082</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncognitoDuck11/pseuds/IncognitoDuck11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlotte pushed herself off the wall and began to round the table, moving with all the liquid grace of a predator. She exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Alex, who snickered, and for a brief moment, some hint of genuine affection passed between them, and they looked simply like normal sisters laughing at an inside joke. Benign, carefree in the best of ways. Again the thought of what could’ve been made Spencer’s heart twinge. And again she reminded herself that in this version of things, her sisters were as good as dead.</p>
<p>Or</p>
<p>Charlotte and Alex bully Spencer in the Dollhouse and there are no happy feelings.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>(finders keepers, losers weepers)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from "Emperor's New Clothes" by Panic! at the Disco</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Comfy?” </p>
<p>Despite the fact that she was in no position to flaunt her intrinsic sense of audacity, Spencer rolled her eyes. It was a coin flip in such volatile company, but lucky for her the action earned a chuckle instead of a punch in the face. </p>
<p>“Oh, absolutely,” she deadpanned, trying to focus on anything besides the panic of not being able to move her arms. They’d put her in a straitjacket, and she was finding the rough, canvas-like fabric quite difficult to ignore—it was humiliating, yes, and absolutely degrading, but it was also reminding her a little too much of her time in Radley. Something in her brain was shifting off balance again, the physical confinement making her sanity slowly grate against itself like tectonic plates, and that could pose a huge problem, especially since she couldn’t afford to be standing on anything but solid ground while face to face with her tormentors. “A little itchy, though.”</p>
<p>Alex pulled the chair opposite her out from the table and spun it around to sit backwards on it, and, despite herself, Spencer almost smiled, recalling her habit of doing the very same thing when she was little. Eventually, it had been chastised out of her because it wasn’t “ladylike”, but nobody could ever stop her from assuming the confident posture she chose to hold herself with. She’d picked up everything she knew about dominant body language from her lawyer parents, actually, and they weren’t ever upset if she intimidated people as long as she exuded class and elegance in the process. Her twin seemed to instinctively abide by a similar set of self-defined principles, but they were very obviously hewn in a rougher context. Alex made herself comfortable, took up space with unrivaled entitlement, but always kept to an air of defensiveness like she was anticipating an attack.</p>
<p>It made Spencer wonder about the circumstances that had carved that edge into her. There were only so many she could think of, and none of them were very pleasant. From the brief rundown they’d given her, she knew Alex had grown up, as her twin had so crassly put it, “in a bunch of different places with a bunch of different assholes”. No sensitive details were relayed to her, naturally, but Spencer did know that even considering what Alex must have endured as a kid was making her heart ache. </p>
<p>It took her a moment to realize that maybe it was because she wasn’t with Alex through it all, reminding her that someone always had her back, unconditionally. But as things were, they both had grown up alone and out of place and all she could do about it now was mourn the version where they grew up together. The version where seven-year-old Spencer didn’t feel the need to pack a sandwich and a twenty dollar bill and run away to the movies. </p>
<p>The version where her sisters maybe <em> weren’t </em> demented psychopaths.</p>
<p>Her twin tutted and wagged an accusatory finger in her direction, a gesture that might have been a playful, harmless indication of camaraderie in that alternate universe. But Alex’s flat, cold eyes glistened dangerously at her, and Spencer wasn’t about to mistake her deceptively easy-going grin for one without teeth. She knew who and <em> what </em> she was dealing with, and it wasn’t some broken, victimized orphan. </p>
<p>“Would you prefer to be hanging upside down, too?” input a familiar voice, one that immediately set Spencer’s teeth on edge. </p>
<p>CeCe—or<em> Charlotte </em> , rather—still had the uncanny ability to get under her skin. And Spencer would never admit it, but something about CeCe Drake had always irked her, intimidated her even, maybe because she was like a perfect toxic mix of Alison and Melissa that Spencer would be hard-pressed to challenge. But unlike Alison, who Spencer viewed as an equal even when they were at each other’s throats, and unlike Melissa, who she would do anything for despite their petty feuds, CeCe could cleanly and swiftly cut her off at the knees, belittle her with just a look. But, while she had been vicious and condescending, <em> CeCe </em> played nice. </p>
<p><em> Charlotte </em>was another story, however. Deadly. Uninhibited by laws or morals or any of the things that her outward persona might've yielded to, lest she end up condemned or confined or eliminated. Charlotte was the person under the mask, whether or not that mask had been Charles or -A or CeCe or Red Coat, and she scared the ever-living hell out of Spencer.</p>
<p>Now, her blue eyes narrowed and her chin held regally aloft, the woman leaning against the wall behind Alex was observing them with the disconnected fascination of a scientist, the calculating scrutiny of a chess-master, and a kind of wicked, possessive arrogance that made Spencer’s skin crawl. </p>
<p>“Because that can be arranged, if you’re just dying to unleash your inner Houdini.” Charlotte pushed herself off the wall and began to round the table, moving with all the liquid grace of a predator. She exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Alex, who snickered, and for a brief moment, some hint of genuine affection passed between them, and they looked simply like normal sisters laughing at an inside joke. Benign, carefree in the best of ways. Again the thought of what could’ve been made Spencer’s heart twinge. And again she reminded herself that in this version of things, her sisters were as good as dead.</p>
<p>“Magic is one of your things, isn’t it?” Charlotte turned her shadowy gaze back to Spencer, smiling at her as she wandered over to position herself just inside Spencer’s peripheral vision. She grabbed a fistful of the back of the straitjacket and jostled her, humming in apparent satisfaction with the restraint’s security. A caged-animal kind of rage welling up in her, Spencer struggled to keep her unaffected mask in place; there was nothing she could do in this situation without making things worse for herself. “Like academic decathlon and horseback riding. Oh, and playing dress up in your closet every morning.”</p>
<p>Alex snorted, precariously tilting her chair forward like a hyperactive first-grader. “Wow, that is the <em> lamest </em>thing I think I've ever heard. We’re not keeping you from too much homework, are we, Spence?” </p>
<p>“Careful, Alex,” lilted Charlotte, gripping Spencer’s shoulders and leaning over her until Spencer could smell her sickly sweet breath—courtesy of the butterscotch candies she'd been popping like pills. “Homework’s a very serious topic for our dear sister. Don't tease her about it.”</p>
<p>“Of course. Right,” said Alex, in a clipped, mocking tone. She held up a reassuring hand. “S’pposed to be respectful to family, ‘specially if they’re as bloody genius as you, Spence.” </p>
<p>“<em> Yes </em> ,” said Charlotte, emphatically. She jabbed a finger into Spencer’s temple. “All those brains deserve to be admired, not ridiculed. It's what makes you, Spencer, a <em> Drake </em> . You're smart, and that is <em> never </em> something to take lightly.” </p>
<p>Eyes level with Alex’s wolfish gaze, Spencer lifted her chin and made a conscious effort to harden her expression, filling in any cracks, tightening her jaw. “Hastings,” she spat out, with conviction that surprised even herself. She clenched her hands into fists to stop them shaking, sat up straight. “I'm not, nor will I ever be, a Drake.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, you are dangerously intelligent, Spencer,” said Charlotte in a low voice, as she let go of her shoulders and backed off. “But that's not what makes you a threat.”</p>
<p>Spencer nearly let out a sigh of relief at the woman's absence from her personal space, but Charlotte began to pace behind her chair, a calculated move she knew was meant to keep her on guard. It definitely unnerved her, being unable to see the woman and predict her next move, but Spencer kept to her air of steely calm and waited. For what, she didn't know, until suddenly a hand shoved at the back of her head and propelled her face forward into the table, bouncing it off the metal surface. A starburst of pain crackled in her face, a gush of blood immediately beginning to pour from her nose, and Charlotte yanked her backwards by the hair before she could regain her bearings. </p>
<p>“You're a threat because you're so <em> fucking </em> stubborn,” the blonde hissed into her ear.</p>
<p>Spencer gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to recall her composure, but the ache radiating from the center of her face made it nearly impossible. She’d busted her nose in field hockey before—several times, actually—so she wasn't a stranger to this kind of pain, but immediately she could tell that this injury was more severe, what with the sense that her entire nose had dislodged and moved off-center. She gagged as blood drained down the back of her throat, and Charlotte released her so she could lean over and spit a viscous wad of it out onto the floor. </p>
<p>The action upset her sense of balance, and she only had time to decide to fall on the side where spit wasn't before listing to the right. Her shoulder took the brunt of the fall—thankfully so, since her head had taken enough damage for one day—and the chair tumbled over after her with a loud clatter. She suppressed a groan at the noise and rested her temple against the cool tile.</p>
<p>Alex let out a vicious cackle. “Fuckin' 'ell, Charlotte, I think you broke her nose!” </p>
<p>“Well, on the bright side, now it'll be a lot easier to tell you two apart.” Charlotte snorted her laughter. “Anyway, do you know how long I've been wanting to do that? You should've seen her when we first met, Lex. Annoyingly persistent little shit from the very start, like a bitch with a bone.”</p>
<p>Spencer could only attempt to catch her breath as she listened to the steady sound of Charlotte’s shoes striking the floor. They sounded heavy, solid, and she imagined their impact would feel like that of a baseball bat if they were to thud against her ribs. She curled in on herself and tensed her muscles, tried not to tremble as the older woman paced behind her. She felt so dreadfully weak, outmatched, like some wounded gazelle being circled by a lioness, blood staining the ground as she anticipated the crushing sensation of teeth at her jugular. </p>
<p>“See that's one of her many weaknesses,” continued Charlotte, in the background of her racing thoughts. “Spencer can't let things go. Spencer drives herself absolutely fucking crazy over every little thing. <em> God </em>, it's insufferable. And pretty fucking pathetic, too.” </p>
<p>The verbal lashing struck uncomfortably close to home, rattling Spencer more than she'd like to admit. Meanwhile, the most primal recesses of her mind were screaming, terrified, that she needed to get up, defend herself, but she didn't have use of her arms, couldn't even stay sitting upright. How was she supposed to fight off two women who had all the tables turned in their favor? How was she supposed to be brave, when her opponents had cleaved so cleanly through her defenses and still didn't even consider pulling their punches? How the <em> fuck </em> was she supposed to handle being <em> defeated </em> like this, being left in the merciless claws of two people that wanted nothing more than to watch her world burn? </p>
<p>Tears welled up in her eyes, and suddenly she felt like a little kid, dragging herself off the ground once Kendra Santoni had gotten bored of smacking her with that jump rope. What had she done then besides grit her teeth until it was over? If fighting back wasn't an option, what else was there to do besides struggle and cry and pray to any higher entity out there for the suffering to end? </p>
<p>But she had a feeling that now, faced with the one enemy she had never managed to defeat, this suffering was going to end only in her death. </p>
<p>The tears spilled over, her composed facade crumpling, but she didn't whimper, didn't sob. If she was going to die, she'd be damned if she went out begging. Crying was probably a given, and it was the only hint of weakness she was willing to show her captors. They knew they were winning, anyway. </p>
<p>Her twin slipped off her chair and sauntered over, a smirk etched deep in her face. Spencer watched silently as Alex bent her knees to crouch down in front of her, and didn't flinch as Alex snorted a laugh upon watching the tears roll across her swelling, bruised skin. </p>
<p>“Well shite. Who knew? Spoiled rich bitch can't take a hit,” she chortled, grabbing harshly at Spencer's jaw and twisting her face upward. Charlotte leered down at her. “Look ‘ere, Char—she's <em> crying </em>, the poor thing.” </p>
<p>Spencer jerked her head out of her sister's grasp, though the violent motion stirred her vision like soup, vertigo grabbing hold and forcing her head back to the floor. It felt like her brain was leaking out through her eyes and nose, bright red as blood and cold as tears. Her stomach churned, but she focused on the tiles beneath her temple that were like an ice pack—something soothing amidst the pain. </p>
<p>“Go to hell,” she spat pitifully, the words tasting bitter and metallic on her tongue. </p>
<p>Just as she predicted, Charlotte's foot slammed into her back with the unrelenting force of a blunt weapon, her black boot steel-toed and probably capable of cracking through her ribs as if they were twigs. The kick immediately cowed her, tore a strangled cry from her lips, but she shut her eyes and allowed the waves of pain to wash over her until they, mercifully, dissipated. </p>
<p>“Watch your mouth,” chastised Charlotte, stepping over her to go sit down in the chair Alex had been sitting in. She leaned back with her arms crossed, and tilted her head. “And take it from me, it could be a lot worse, Spencer.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Chin up, luv.” Alex patted her cheek in an almost sympathetic way. “You'll need some of that hope you hate so much to get you through the next part.” </p>
<p>“The next part?” Spencer croaked, painfully furrowing her brow. “What could <em> possibly </em> be worse than having my face beaten in by two psychopaths?” </p>
<p>The pair shared their second conspiratorial look of the day, Alex twisting her head around to raise an eyebrow at their eldest sister. The blonde swung her hand in a bored gesture and shrugged, smirking. “Go ahead, Lex. Tell her the plan. What's the harm?” </p>
<p>Obviously the harm in telling her the plan was going to be felt by Spencer and Spencer alone, as Alex’s grin was menacing when she turned back around. Spencer felt a spike of dread in the pit of her stomach at the sight. </p>
<p>“Well, it goes like this,” said Alex, pushing up out of her crouch. She swung her hands, caught her fist in front of her and held onto it, and then ambled in a random direction like she was on a stage giving a speech. “You're little friends have no bloody idea I exist. As far as they know, their only enemy is some psycho DiLaurentis spawn named Charles.” She cast an apologetic look at Charlotte. “No offense, sis.” </p>
<p>Charlotte only lifted an unruffled shoulder. “Do I look like Charles to you?” </p>
<p>“Right.” Alex turned and began to pace in the other direction, glancing at Spencer, who only watched dejectedly, not offering to voice the horrible dread in her gut. “As far as those bitches—hell, as far as <em> anyone </em> knows, <em> we </em>don't exist. Your friends will be so distracted with being traumatized, that they won't notice if their best mate Spencer's acting a little off.” </p>
<p>The realization of just what Alex was talking about struck home like the most painful of physical blows. No. No, they could beat her up as much as they wanted, but this was crossing a line. </p>
<p>Triumphant, Alex paused her pacing to gauge her reaction and seemed utterly pleased with the horror that was dawning on Spencer’s face. Suddenly, Alex slackened her expression and abandoned her naturally lackadaisical posture, assuming a rigidity and poise that Spencer had seen only a million times in the mirror. Victory lit a fire in her twin’s eyes, and it only added to the effect. </p>
<p>It was uncanny.</p>
<p>Alex spoke her next words without the accent, flawlessly. “You know what they say about hope.” </p>
<p>Then, she cracked into a smile... and Spencer’s fury—and terror—reached its peak. </p>
<p>“No.” Somehow, she pushed herself into a sitting position, swayed a little as she felt the fluids in her skull slosh around, and then vaulted unsteadily to her feet. Blood ran over her chin, trickled down her neck, pooled in the collar of the straitjacket. Her bare feet slapped against the floor as she took a few listing steps toward her twin. “If you think for a <em>second</em> that that's going to work, then you're wrong,” she snarled, feeling absolutely <em>insane </em>with the weight of this most recent conviction. “<em>My </em>family will notice. <em>My</em> friends will see right through you. And Toby will put a <em>fucking bullet </em>in your head before he’ll believe you're me.” </p>
<p>Charlotte and Alex stared at her, eyebrows raised, and she almost felt a little smug for catching them off guard. Then the pair shared another look and her twin barked out a laugh. “Bloody Christ, Charlotte, and she thinks <em> we’re </em>the crazy ones.”</p>
<p>The blonde rose from her chair and sauntered counterclockwise around the table, away from them. She went to the counter against the wall and whipped out the key to unlock a first aid kit sitting there, began fiddling with something Spencer couldn't see. “Spencer,” she lilted in that trademark condescending tone, not turning around. “What do you think is going to happen when they find out? You think we’ll surrender, just like that? Do you <em> actually </em> believe that this is going to end with all of your friends still standing and us behind bars?” </p>
<p>She turned around, brandishing a syringe filled with a clear liquid, and Spencer took a reflexive step backwards. From behind, Alex grabbed her upper arms, gave her a tiny, bracing shake and a pat on the shoulder. “No blue ribbon for you this time, Spence… because as soon as one of your little friends catches on, I'm going to slit their throats. It'll be all over the place: Spencer Hastings goes stark raving mad and butchers her friends! Pitches herself off the roof of the madhouse she was born in. You'll be <em> dead </em> and we’ll get off Scot free!” </p>
<p>“Kind of a perfect end to the game, if I do say so myself,” added Charlotte, advancing with a triumphant posture that seemed downright Godlike, like the blonde was about to single-handedly toss her into a hole that led straight down to hell. </p>
<p>Unwilling to accept the fact that she was already tumbling over the edge, Spencer tried to dig her heels in. </p>
<p>“This isn't a fucking <em> game </em>,” she hissed. “You can't just play with people's lives. Why can't you understand how fucked up that is? You can't just hurt people because you feel like it.” </p>
<p>"Of course we can." Charlotte scoffed.  "Because that's how the world works, sweetheart. I'd hoped you’d have figured that out by now." Her expression turned cold and hard, her voice growing rougher with each step she took. "People <em>suffer</em> and people <em>die</em> and nobody gives a damn. Nobody <em>cares</em>. Do you know how many nurses in Radley just sat back and watched when they decided to run an <em>experiment</em> on me? They turned a blind eye to the little trans kid getting tortured, for no good reason other than that they wanted to keep their jobs. You know how much fun the switchboards are, don't you, Spencer? Imagine <em>years</em> of that.” </p>
<p>Spencer's heart was starting to race. She felt cornered, pinned, trapped. </p>
<p>She flinched when Alex hissed into her ear, her fingers digging painfully into Spencer's shoulders. “Fuckers that ran Ambrose Home got a kick out of beating kids. You don't know what <em> real </em> hell is like.”</p>
<p>Her stomach twisted.</p>
<p>“People play games all the time,” Charlotte said, blue eyes burning with rage. “But it's people like you and your friends who are the problem. You lie. You keep secrets.” </p>
<p>“And secrets are the things that maintain the illusion of perfection,” added Alex, as if she were reciting it from a book. “Clinging to the idea of perfection is what keeps people like us hidden away. And nothing in this godforsaken cesspit of a world is perfect. Not you and not your <em> pretty </em> – <em> little – friends </em>!” She punctuated each word with a shake of Spencer's shoulders. </p>
<p>Impulsively and perhaps with a certain suicidal bravado, Spencer whipped her head backwards and felt her skull strike home. The impact jarred her brain, but the sound of Alex’s nose crunching was overriding the pain with a very vicious satisfaction. Her twin staggered backwards at the same time Charlotte charged forward, protective outrage in her eyes. </p>
<p>“<em> Mother— </em> FUCK!” Alex bellowed, as Charlotte grabbed Spencer by the collar and dragged her over to the cot in the corner. </p>
<p>The older woman laughed darkly, and Spencer felt like letting out a downright hysterical chuckle in response. Maybe nothing at all was funny and she was plummeting right into a torturous inferno, but if she could get by with more small victories like that, it might soften the blow as she struck bottom and ignited. </p>
<p>Charlotte scowled as she spotted the unhinged amusement in her eyes, and snarled out the one thing that smothered her boastful feeling. “Maybe for that, I'll cut Toby’s brake line. What do you think, <em> Spence </em>?” </p>
<p>She carelessly shoved Spencer into the wall beside the bed, and Spencer slid down to the floor. Charlotte kneeled beside her and clamped an iron fetter around her ankle. Then she brandished the syringe with a savage glee, violently yanking Spencer’s hair to force her into compliance as she struggled to twist away from the needle. She let out an indignant roar and aimed a clumsy foot at Charlotte’s solar plexus, but the blonde was stronger than her, uninhibited by injuries as she was, and easily subdued her, pinning her face to the edge of the mattress.</p>
<p>The needle stabbed the side of her neck and Spencer instinctively went still, like a euthanized animal. Her heart was beating in her throat and blood pooled on her tongue, and the last shreds of her willpower kicked feebly against the inside of her ribcage. She saw Alex over Charlotte’s shoulder, her twin cradling her bloody nose and meeting her eyes in an absolutely murderous glare. Then the pressure in her neck vanished and Charlotte released her. </p>
<p>She watched as the woman rose to her feet and went to tend to Alex. In the few minutes that it took for Charlotte to check out Alex’s nose, declare it not broken, and help stop the bleeding, Spencer drifted into a strangely calm state as the sedative slowly took effect. A haze extinguished the fire in her heart, and she slumped tiredly against the wall to watch the interaction between the pair of antagonists across the room. The blonde was surprisingly gentle with Alex, a soft, motherly concern in her voice as she ordered Alex to tilt her head back. Alex kept glancing over at Spencer with that same spiteful look, but Charlotte guided her attention back. The tenderness was… <em> jarring </em>. </p>
<p>Gradually, Spencer’s eyelids drooped, her brain filled with cotton, and excess saliva flooded her mouth. She allowed her head to slump against the edge of the mattress as Charlotte finally ordered Alex out of the room. Then, the woman made her way back over, the first-aid kit in hand. She knelt down with a much calmer demeanor this time, but her eyes were the same hostile, icy blue that they’d been before. </p>
<p>One hand caught Spencer’s face, sharp fingernails digging into her jaw, and the other went to work examining her wounded nose. Her fingers probed painfully at the askew cartilage, and she hummed. </p>
<p>“Looks like <em> your </em>nose is utterly fucked,” she muttered. “We’ll get Wren to reset it.” </p>
<p>Though fuzzy, the words sent a cold, unpleasant jolt down her spine. <em> Wren? </em> Why was Wren with them? The betrayal stung, but it was subdued by the drug in her system. </p>
<p>Charlotte smirked at the dull shock that warped her expression, and Spencer expected one last blow, another belittling comment or threat or <em> something </em> to rub even more salt in the wound <em> . </em>Nothing happened for a few uneasy beats, but then Charlotte unexpectedly reached out, using the sleeve of her hoodie to dab at the drool and blood staining her chin. She made a disapproving sound, and wrinkled her nose in disgust. </p>
<p>“Tranqs are a bitch, aren't they?” she said with a scoff. “In Radley, I <em> literally </em> almost drowned in my own drool once. Being doped up against your will is a special kind of hell. You can't move, you can barely even speak…” </p>
<p>There it was. The bite of malice was entirely predictable, and was, honestly, much better than having Charlotte wipe her chin in some mockery of concern. </p>
<p>“You're about as helpless as a newborn baby when you're like this,” she continued, tilting Spencer's face around in a perfunctory appraisal. Her gaze softened as she pulled away, and the sudden change of attitude gave Spencer whiplash. “You know, I was one year away from being dumped in Radley when you and Alex were born. We <em> just </em> missed each other. If things had lined up differently, I might have gotten to hold you before they shipped you both off.” She sighed heavily, a glimpse of real, heavy sorrow flickering in her expression. Then, she masked it, and shifted back into her disconnected position. “Oh, well. Now you're just another doll. I wouldn't say you're my favorite, though; you're just so damn obstinate.” </p>
<p>She pursed her lips and squinted, seemingly deciding on her next words. “But I do like a challenge,” she said finally, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. “We have that in common, at least.” </p>
<p>Spencer internally cringed. She was <em> nothing </em> like either of these monsters. Her mouth fell open and she fumbled the words out in a slur. “Am… I… I am <em> nothing </em> –” she clamped her mouth shut and swallowed the gathering spit before it could spill out. Blew out a frustrated breath. Continued. “Nothing… like <em> you </em>.” </p>
<p>“You are right about one thing, Spencer: hope does breed misery. But I think you buy into it more than you'd care to admit.” Charlotte shrugged and rose to her feet. “I did. Alex <em> still </em> does, despite everything. The difference is that she deserves a little bit of light at the end of the tunnel. But you? I'm looking forward to the moment when that last little shred of it you're clinging to dies.” </p>
<p>Spencer tried not to shiver, instead pulling her brows together and spitting out a muttered string of words that was barely coherent. “And what… what about you?” </p>
<p>“Me? Oh, that's simple.” Charlotte's eyes glistened darkly. “I haven't relied on hope for <em> ages </em> now. You don't need it when you have all the power.” She chuckled, an oily, menacing noise that spiked a sudden, all-consuming need to be alone in Spencer. Charlotte peered down at her with something like recognition, a knowing flicker in the twitch of her mouth. It reminded Spencer of when Ali knew a secret about her, that <em> smirk </em>that hinted she knew more about you than maybe even you did, the one she hated. “I think you'd have liked it if you let yourself. Pulling the strings is in your blood and, I'm sure you don't need me to remind you of this, so is addiction, Spencer. You could've turned out just like me. I think you know that. And I think it bothers you.” </p>
<p>Spencer didn't even try to respond, curling in on herself and willing Charlotte's presence away. She was so very exhausted all of a sudden, wanting nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep for days. They wouldn't let her. Of course they wouldn't let her sleep, but she could let her mind wander, right? She could survive this if she could just keep her mind occupied. </p>
<p>Charlotte watched her for a moment longer, expression unreadable. "Emily's not the weakest link, you know that, right? Americano's got her flaws, but you've been run down from the very beginning, haven't you? Baby Hastings is so close to just–" She mimicked breaking something into two, a cruel, mirthful glint in her eye. "<em> Snapping </em>." </p>
<p>Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Charlotte turned to head out of the room, only pausing once to turn and leave Spencer with one last remark:</p>
<p>"You know what the right drugs and a little sleep deprivation can do to a person, don't you, Spence?" </p>
<p>On her way out, she reached into her hoodie pocket and pulled out a tiny remote, clicking a button that turned on the ear-splitting alarm. As the door slammed shut behind her tormentor, Spencer was helpless to cover her ears, helpless to do anything but sit and listen as the siren blared.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sooo... I put the three of them in a room together and this is what happened. Hope you... uh... enjoyed??</p></blockquote></div></div>
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